Heaven in a Wild Flower
by Lyn Harkeran
Summary: AU Fluff: When Hannah feels that the beauty of the world has been drained, John Clare decides to remind her of it with the simplicity of a flower. John Clare (Caliban)/OC fluff with some plot, romance, friendship and too many feels. Originally posted on Deviantart.
1. Heaven in a Wildflower

**Heaven in a Wild Flower**

* * *

It had been a long day. . . A long string of weeks, mixed into an utterly disappointing year. Hannah had thought she'd shed her tears for the world and herself, but it always seemed to get worse. Each disappointment was tripled, every short coming had blossomed into a grotesque despair that had learned to swallow her whole. She never ceased fighting it, but the depression never truly went away. There were times when she'd almost feel like her former self; when the clouds would part and the universe would seem clearer. . . But then it would fade back into the infernal inky black, and her apprehension would return.

So much death, so much failure and second guessing, so much _change._ At times, it was more than she could bare. . . And yet she never stopped believing.

Her heart had been broken by life, and yet she continued to love with all that she had left. Even as the world crumbled around her, Hannah fought to hold the desecrated pillars in her weary hands. Each day, the burden became greater. But not once, did she dare to let go. Not once, did she run away. Even though she desperately wanted to. . . And to be honest, if it wasn't for her dearest friend and companion, John Claire, she might have given into the call of oblivion long ago. But her gentle apartment mate had given her cause to remain strong. . . Though as the woman currently glanced down at her phone, she felt her resolutions waver.

The text message would have seemed harmless to most who read it. Perhaps a little snappy and aggressive, but ultimately ignorable. . . But to Hannah, it sent a spiral of dread to the pit of her stomach. She watched as yet another message popped up on her screen, and saw that it was from the same person. Fresh tears blurred her vision as she felt her heart wrench painfully.

10 years of her life down the drain. Years of _loving_ and _hoping_ gone to waste. The thought made her sick.

Hannah, laid down on her bed slowly as her regret hit her again, and she succumbed to the sorrow she felt. . . never noticing the pair of golden eyes that watched her brokenly from her doorway, nor hearing the nearly silent footfalls of her house guest as the front door of the apartment shut. Though in that moment, it was impossible for Hannah to hear anything but her pulse in her ears, and the drumming of her emotional fatigue.

* * *

 _ **{****}**_

It was several hours later that Hannah awoke to the sound of soft shuffling. The woman blinked harshly past tear-matted lashes, as she fought to remember when she had fallen asleep in the first place. She must have exhausted herself when she'd cried.

Hannah slumped off her bed, before she walked into her bathroom to wash her face off. As cold water splashed against her skin, she felt awareness creep back in, and with it, her earlier anguish. She patted her face dry with a towel, said a silent prayer to her Patron Gods, and exited the bathroom and walked into her living room. She had promised John that she'd cook dinner - seeing as they took turns every other night- and after having glanced at her cell phone's clock, she realized she'd slept well into the evening. She called out, as she entered the room, still glancing at her phone as she shot her friend Lyn a quick message.

"John, I'm so sorry about dinner. If you haven't eaten, I can make something-" Hannah stopped midsentence, as her light eyes lifted up. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing, before a hand rose to cover her mouth, and an emotional gasp escaped her lips.

The small room, usually so plain, was covered in different assortments of Wildflowers. It wasn't overwhelming, but there were more bouquets here then she'd ever seen outside a flower shop. Yellow, red, purple, pink, and orange- each flower housed a unique colour and shape, and Hannah's heart soared at the sight. Not to mention the divine smell that rose from them. It also didn't escape her notice, that all of them were still in soil and water. . . But it was the figure who stood in the center of it all, that made Hannah react so strongly.

John Claire, dressed in his simple gray shirt and dark pants, stood in the midst of the sublime indoor garden. A soft smile graced his scarred, pallid features, as he held up a single blossom in his large hand. It was a delicate blue, with soft graceful petals and a lighter tip at the top. It was a Bluebonnet. . . her state flower. . . Her home's emblem. . .

For several moments, the two stood staring at each other, Hannah unable to move, before the man slowly made his way to her. His steps were careful, so as not to crush any of the flora, as he came to stand directly in front of her.

"Hello, Miss Hannah," he said quietly, his deep voice immediately causing the woman a sense of security and calm.

"John," she breathed, as emotion clouded her eyes for the second time that night. "What. . . What is all this . . . ?"

The golden eyes showed worry, before he looked around at his handy work. His rounded face seemed almost anxious as he moved to explain.

"As I was walking today, I came across a flower vendor who had gotten too many wildflowers. . . She was going to dispose of them, but I asked her not to. She ended up giving them to me when I told her what I intended to do with them, and I brought them here." Hannah's eyes shone with wonder, and it made John's expression turn bashful. "I thought they would help you. . . Better than I ever could."

Hannah, finally recovering herself, wrapped her arms around the much taller man. She was careful not to crush the flower he held, but her hug was firm as she placed a kiss to his cheek.

"You help me more than you will ever know, Mr. Claire," she vowed affectionately, pulling back to study him. "They are so beautiful, and you saved them. I can't think of anything more touching. . . But why did you get them for me?"

"You were upset," he said simply, his golden eyes searching her, making her melt. "After everything that has occurred this year: all you have lost, all that has been taken from you, I wanted to remind you. . ."

"Remind me of what?"

"That you are _not_ alone." His expression softened, as his gaze became earnest. "You are _loved,_ Miss Hannah, and you are _needed._ Even as the world changes and your faith absconds you, you must know that it is not over. That there is still greatness to be achieved and hearts to be mended."

"But what if it is _my_ heart that is broken?" she asked.

John paused for a moment before quoting, "There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart."

Wordsworth. . . Hannah smiled as he quoted his favorite poet. "Do you love me, John?"

A tinge of color rose to his paled, white cheeks in that moment, as he nodded shyly. His long dark hair floated around his scarred face, as he regarded her.

"I do, Miss," he finally said- his formality never once leaving. "You _know_ I do."

Hannah raised a hand to cup his face, as she helped him cradle the flower with her other. She looked deep into his beautiful golden eyes, before she graced him with a happy smile. It lit up her entire face, and made her more glorious then the flowers that surrounded them.

"I love you too, Mr. Claire, and I always will." Then, before she leaned in to gently capture his lips, she said in a contented whisper.

"To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour."

* * *

"What though the radiance which was once so bright  
Be now for ever taken from my sight,  
Though nothing can bring back the hour  
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;  
We will grieve not, rather find  
Strength in what remains behind;  
In the primal sympathy  
Which having been must ever be;  
In the soothing thoughts that spring  
Out of human suffering;  
In the faith that looks through death,  
In years that bring the philosophic mind."  
― **William Wordsworth**

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ A gift for my dearest sister Hannah Amalthea, who is the biggest Penny Dreadful fan I know. 3 She's been going through some tough stuff lately and asked me for a story with John Clare (the Frankenstein monster from PD). I must admit I was intimidated by his large vocabulary and unwavering soul, but I think for a first attempt at writing him that I did okay. ^^;

 _ **Disclaimer: I do NOT own: Penny Dreadful (show, characters, franchise, etc.), John Claire, Rory Kinnear, or Wild Flowers.**_

 _ **~Lyn Harkeran**_


	2. Rose and Lotus

**Rose and Lotus**

* * *

It had been a trying month, and Hannah Amaletha felt as if she had aged ten years in the process of dealing with it all. Her car had broken down, needing countless repairs and parts added. Her apartment lease would soon expire, and she had yet to find a new place to live. Her job was stressful, and her anxiety was ever rising. And to top off the list of horrible things, her beloved cat Skish had passed to the stars.

She felt guilty and numb, believing that if she had been more attentive to him, that perhaps her dearest cat would have lived. Perhaps if she was stronger, better and more caring, things wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps it was her own fault, or perhaps darkness would always haunt her. Only the Goddess could say.

It was quite late as Hannah sluggishly walked towards her apartment door. The day had dragged on, and her shift had been tiresome and long. Normally she enjoyed her job, but after losing so much in so short a time, Hannah couldn't muster any enthusiasm. She was tired, lonely, and grief stricken. But life continued to ceaselessly bombard her with trial after trial, and she wondered if she would ever find repose. Was there no peace to be found? No light? No rest from this neverending climb of drudgery and fear?

 _No,_ the voice in her head whispered, as she put her key into the lock. _You'll never escape the darkness. It will swallow you whole. It's what you deserve. It's where you belong._

Hannah pushed back tears as she opened her apartment door. She wouldn't cry outside where others could see her. She'd wait until she was alone before she allowed herself to break down. If only she could get to her room, to someplace safe from prying eyes. . .

Hannah entered her apartment and locked up behind herself on autopilot. She moved from pure muscle memory, as she walked to her kitchen. She placed her purse and keys down on the counter, as she always did. But just as she was about to leave the kitchen, and hole up in her bedroom to cry, something on the far side of the counter caught her eye. Slowly, she drew closer, weary blue eyes focusing on the unknown object.

Upon closer inspection, Hannah realized that it was a planter filled with four distinct flowers. Hannah was unsure of the kind of flower the first three were, but found herself enraptured by their beauty. One was vibrant red, another striking blue, and the third a passionate purple, all surrounding the single flower in the center of the planter. . . A gorgeous red rose.

Hannah reached out a gentle hand, allowing her fingers to caress the flower petals one by one. They were silky and light against her fingers, as if the flowers were kissing her. Hannah stared at the lovely petals for several long moments, before her gaze was caught by a nondescript piece of paper that rested next to the planter. She opened it and read the message housed within.

" _ **To the loveliest flower I know. I bequeath the Lotus and the Rose, in hopes of lifting your spirits. ~ My love always, John Clare."**_

Tears misted the corners of Hannah's eyes as she noted the familiar cursive and sweet sentiment. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and fought to compose herself. Then Hannah placed the note in her pants pocket, before returning her attention to the lovely blossoms. For a time, she merely basked in their fragrance and elegance. Then, Hannah turned and left the kitchen to look for John. Her sorrow could wait. But her need of John Clare's presence could not.

* * *

She found John Clare not a minute later, sitting on the couch in her living room, golden eyes drinking in a book. She was still for a time, watching him from the doorway, before the lovely golden-amber eyes lifted to regard her. The smile that graced his lips took her breath away, as he lowered the book and gave her his full attention.

"John, you're here. . ."

John nodded. "Yes. I thought you would like some company. But if you would rather spend the evening alone, I can retire. . ."

"No, John. . . Please stay." Hannah felt wretched, but having John near always made her feel better than she had.

"Will you sit with me, Miss Hannah?" he asked cordially, offering his hand to her. Hannah didn't think twice before taking his ashen hand into her own. John's skin was cooler than most humans, but Hannah had grown accustomed to it and found the coolness soothing in the raging heat of summer.

As his hand closed around hers, Hannah took the seat beside him. He pressed his lips to her knuckles in a lingering kiss, before humming contentedly. Hannah couldn't help the soft smile that rose to her face, as she leaned over and hugged him.

For several unhurried minutes, they embraced, before John's deep, flowing cadence interrupted the silence.

"Did you find the flowers?"

"I did," Hannah whispered. "They were lovely."

"That is good to hear," John returned, and Hannah could almost _feel_ him smiling. "I know that you have been disheartened as of late."

"I have. . . But I must say, I was surprised by the planter." Hannah admitted. "I recognized the rose, but I wasn't familiar with the others. In your note you said they were Lotus blossoms?"

"Yes." John pulled back to meet her eyes, his own golden ones now intent. ". . . You know that years ago, flowers had their own respected language? Each genus had its own meaning and symbolism. . . But with time, it has faded and only a few remember the significance."

Hannah pondered his words, as she studied his face. She herself had only ever known a handful of the flower meanings. But as she had grown as a Wiccan, she'd learned more and more about the earth and nature itself. It was an interest that she and John willingly shared.

"It is a shame that flowers aren't as well appreciated as they once were." Hannah said, before adding thoughtfully. "I know that red roses are symbolic of love and desire. . . But why did you choose the Lotus to surround the rose?"

With John there was always a deeper meaning, and Hannah waited to hear his thoughts. After a moment, he obliged her.

"Because out of all the flowers that grace this earth, it is the Lotus that reminds me of you." His voice was tender and sweet, reaching into her very heart, though they both knew he'd been there all along.

"But Lotus' seem so elegant and poised. . . I cannot see how they would remind you of me, John."

John's expression grew warm, his hands holding her gently. "Do you know what the Lotus symbolizes, Miss Hannah?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't."

"Red, blue, purple: these Lotus blossoms stand for Purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration, and rebirth. Which is why I am reminded of you when I behold them."

John paused before he continued, his voice breaking with emotion as he spoke his mind. "Miss Hannah, you are a Lotus in every way. You are a glory and a wonder to behold and envision. You are a source of love and compassion to those around you, even if you cannot see it yourself. You reach towards the heavens, wishing to bask in the eternal light. . . And even in the midst of storms and darkness, you continue to _reach. . ._ You continue to regenerate and _try_ to expand your knowledge and your love. . . No matter how many storms you face, or how long you are lost to the dark, the light will always find you again. . . Because you are rebirthed anew. Because you _are_ a Lotus and the heavens are where you belong. . ."

Hannah had been still while John spoke, crystal tears escaping her eyes to fall to her cheek. She cried silently, but for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, they were happy tears. The pain of grief and loss still remained, but John's words made the ache seem less. His words made her _hope_ again.

The two were quiet for sometime, before Hannah said in an emotional whisper. "If I am a Lotus, and I have survived in this never ending storm, it is because of the light you have shared with me, John. . . You are my light in the darkness, my ray of sunshine in the rain. It is only through your love and the love of others that I can still reach for the sky. It is only through the hearts of my loved ones that I can still _live."_

"The sentiment is mirrored in me, Miss Hannah," he said smiling softly. "But perhaps we are together for that purpose? To act as a beacon to one-another in our darkest moments, so that we aren't alone. To show love and understanding when others cannot or will not."

"I believe that with all my heart, John." She cried with a wet smile. "I am blessed to have you, and if you stay by my side, then I will have faith that someday the sun will shine on me again."

John kissed Hannah's forehead, before regarding her again, this time with admiration adorning his gaze. "A lovely Lotus blossom until the end, Miss Hannah Amalthea."

"And you are a Rose, my dear Mr. Clare." Hannah said, laughing softly when he looked confused. "You symbolize all that I love, all that I desire. You are _my_ rose."

"I can only be beautiful in your eyes," he said quietly.

"For now," Hannah agreed. "But in time others will see your worth and your beauty and they will love you too. But until that day, I hope that my love is enough. . ."

"It is all I would ask for." He said embracing her tenderly, and enveloping her in his arms.

They held onto each other, crying together. It was a perfect moment. Neither had to hide or pretend. There was pain for both, but it wasn't unbearable. Together they could face any sorrow and find a haven to take pleasure in.

The night grew ever darker as Hannah finally asked. "Will you read to me, John? I love hearing your voice. . . and I feel it would calm me."

John smiled at her bashfully, before he lifted the book he had been reading before. "I would be honored. Will Shakespeare do?"

"Oh yes!" Hannah felt her heart flip, as she read the cover. Shakespeare's Sonnets. . . "Read me your favorite Sonnet. I would love to hear it."

John dipped his head, as he obligingly began to thumb through the pages. When he finally found the one he was looking for, he began to read. His voice flowed throughout the room and surrounded Hannah like a comforting shroud. And for that lovely lapse of time, Hannah Amalthea found a ray of sunlight all her own. . .

* * *

" _ **Let me not to the marriage of true minds**_

 _ **Admit impediments. Love is not love**_

 _ **Which alters when it alteration finds,**_

 _ **Or bends with the remover to remove.**_

 _ **O no! it is an ever-fixed mark**_

 _ **That looks on tempests and is never shaken;**_

 _ **It is the star to every wand'ring bark,**_

 _ **Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.**_

 _ **Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks**_

 _ **Within his bending sickle's compass come;**_

 _ **Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,**_

 _ **But bears it out even to the edge of doom.**_

 _ **If this be error and upon me prov'd,**_

 _ **I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd."**_

* * *

 **Meanings: *Lotus Flower - Purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration, rebirth**

 ***Red Rose - Love, I love you, desire**

 **A/N:** Another hurt/comfort story that I originally posted over on DA for my dearest friend. It was emotional for both of us. I hope that you all can find some light and love for yourselves, just like Hannah and John. Thanks for reading guys!

 _ **~Lyn**_


End file.
